


Sit With Me

by shishiswordsman



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Mugiwara no Ichimi | Straw Hat Pirates, Nakamaship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 05:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shishiswordsman/pseuds/shishiswordsman
Summary: “You’re family. Of course we came.”After the events of Whole Cake Island, Sanji has trouble adjusting.





	

It’s midnight when Sanji wakes.

His chest heaves and his hands clutch the sides of his hammock with white knuckles, and though he must have fallen asleep at some point, Sanji doesn’t feel rested at all. He gets up and walks past Chopper to get to the door, fleeing the room where the last vestiges of his nightmares still linger.

The smell of the sea caresses Sanji’s skin like a welcome, and he breathes it in, deeply. His eyes fall closed, and the Sunny’s creaks and groans mix with the sound of lapping waves fill the silence. Brook is on night watch, and the night breeze carries a soft melody with it, coming from the crow’s nest. It feels good to be home.

Without much conscious thought, Sanji’s feet take him to the galley.

He rests his hand on the door for a moment, taking in the curves and dents on the Adam’s wood, and he steps inside. His kitchen is a mess, and he knows exactly whose fault that is, and yet… Sanji doesn’t have the heart to be angry.

He prepares a meal, as he ought to. The weight of his kitchen knife is different somehow, and all his spices are scattered on the table haphazardly. Sanji spends fifteen minutes dusting the shelves that he already scrubbed painstakingly clean the day before, and he knows he’s stalling. It’s easier that way.

But he is a cook in a kitchen, and that’s something Sanji cannot deny. Another moment later the tray in front of him is piled high with bits of vegetables, rice and fruit, easily digestible and packed full of nutrients. Sanji picks up the tray. His hands had been steady while he’d cut and cooked the food, but now, carrying the tray in a grip tight enough to make his fingers hurt, Sanji nearly drops it twice.

Once again, he stops briefly at the door, but this time his reasons are not tied to nostalgia. He can hear the steady thrumming of Chopper’s equipment through the door, working hard to aid their patient, who has also worked so very hard.

Though the night is warm and pleasant, a shiver runs up Sanji’s spine. Inside, his Captain lies unconscious, recovering from battles he waged on an Yonkou’s territory — all just to save Sanji’s wretched hide.

He almost turns away. He doesn’t want to go in, doesn’t dare — not after every single mistake he’s made has been marked on Luffy’s skin like a tally of his own greatest failure. The tray in his hands is steaming, and Sanji realises that the food is going to get cold if he stays there much longer, lamenting his cowardice. Whether he thinks himself worthy of it or not, the tray in his hands is a duty that is his to carry.

Sanji draws in a deep breath, and he steps inside.

The infirmary has been scrubbed from top to bottom, and no sign remains of the slipshod, rushed frenzy that had reigned less than a week ago in the aftermath of their impossible escape. Nami had been cleared to leave the infirmary days ago, and now only one patient remains, prone on the sole bed that takes up the entire fall wall.

Luffy is wrapped in bandages from head to toe, with an IV hooked to his elbow and a catheter disappearing under the white sheets. For a while, Sanji’s heart simultaneously pounds in his ears and stops entirely, and it’s like his feet are glued to the floor.

He hasn’t been able to muster the courage to visit the infirmary before now. Nami had promised to take care of cooking for until Sanji was more himself – for an appropriate price Sanji didn’t mind paying – and she had mostly been bringing Luffy food along with Chopper. There would be certain restraints to Luffy’s diet for a while - a direct consequence from one of Katakuri’s attacks - and Sanji knows that it should have killed Luffy, and he’s grateful. But the one thing Luffy loves is meat, and now he can’t have it. And it’s all because of his pig-headed loyalty that shakes Sanji to his core.

He rests the food on the bed, next to Luffy’s hand, and he takes a seat beside him. He can see Luffy’s nostrils flare as he smells the food, and a sad smile tugs at the corners of Sanji’s mouth. Luffy’s snoring, but his hand reaches for the tray Sanji’s brought clumsily, prodding at the sheets around the tray and catching his bandages on its edges before hitting his mark.

He brings a piece of caramelised mango to his lips, eyes still closed and his entire body lax and limp, and Sanji watches him swallow the piece whole. And another after that, and another. Sanji follows Luffy’s jaw with his eyes with a certain sort of reverence; watching as his muscles work and his Adam’s apple bobs lazily as he swallows the food Sanji’s prepared for him.

When the plate is all but licked clean, Sanji takes it back. Luffy’s hand is still searching for more, but Sanji’s not going to give him seconds, though he’d like to. He can’t risk upsetting Luffy’s stomach. After a moment, the rubber hand gives up on its search and returns to its owner’s side.

All the while, Sanji sits with his knees tucked to his chest, arms wrapped around himself tightly. At the same time he’s made incredibly happy to see Luffy eat, breathe, clearly _alive_ , and yet, it’s painful. He wants to tear those bandages from Luffy’s wrists and palms, the skin and flesh torn apart in his rampageous quest, because some irrational part of him is holding onto the thought of finding unblemished fingers under all those layers of gauze. He knows he won’t, has seen the damage Luffy had taken first hand, but he still hopes like a fool.

If there’s one thing Sanji wants and fears even more than that, it’s to see Luffy awake. He wants to hear Luffy’s voice, but his wish goes ungranted. The quiet builds until it’s a pressure on Sanji’s ribcage, pressing and pushing until silent sobs catch in his throat.

“You really overdid it this time,” Sanji says quietly, and he almost calls him Captain, but the word never gets past the lump in his throat. “Coming all the way here, for what? You should have just… And now you are… Jinbei is…”

Luffy doesn’t answer, but Sanji didn’t really expect him to.

It’s irrational that he’s so emotional now — Sanji’s seen Luffy like this before, injured and sleeping away the exertion from a huge battle, but it still jars him. It’s different now that the battle was fought over him; over his freedom and his dream.

For a fleeting second, Sanji wonders if this is how Nami and Robin felt, faced with something as intimidating and overpowering as the unconditional love of one Straw Hat Luffy.

Sanji brings a hand to his face, the heel of his palm pushing against his eye, swiping away the tears that threaten to fall. For a moment he feels like a little boy, crying at his ailing mother’s bedside.

The door creaks open, and someone steps inside with a lantern. Sanji recognises the smell of oranges coupled with the aura of his nakama, and he rushes to wipe any signs of his distress off his face.

He manages a nod and a smile. “Did I wake you, Nami-san? Sorry.”

She is still wearing her pyjamas and a bathrobe, and her hair is dishevelled and tangled with sleep. There’s an imprint of her pillow’s creases left on her cheek, following the line of a bandage that covers her neck and jawline. Sanji thinks she looks stunning.

“No, it’s alright,” Nami says, and she sits on Luffy’s bed, taking his hand in hers. “I couldn’t really sleep myself.”

Sanji doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know if he’s forgiven yet, so he waits in silence, anxiously staring at Nami’s thumb that’s drawing circles on the back of Luffy’s hand. He fidgets, drawing his knees closer to his chest, and his eyes dart to the door. Maybe he should leave, he’s clearly intruding on something private between Nami and Luffy, he doesn’t belong —

“Sit with me?” Nami asks out of the blue, and it’s not like Sanji could ever deny her.

He gets up on shaky legs, and there’s a sense of wrongness when he sits beside Nami on the infirmary bed, but at the same time it’s right in every way that matters. He can feel Nami’s eyes on him, searching and scrutinising.

The silence grows until it’s uncomfortable to the point where it feels like needles on Sanji’s skin, and he desperately wants to say something to make Nami warm up to him a little, because she must be furious. Sanji remembers the shocked but stubborn look on Luffy’s face as he’d spouted acidic lies in his face, and the only thing worse than that is the memory of Nami right after she’d slapped him. There’s still a bruise on his skin, but that will heal far quicker than the mark left on Sanji’s soul.

“I’m adding two hundred thousand beri to your debt,” Nami says quietly, her eyes flicking from Luffy’s hand to Sanji.

Sanji nods. “That’s fine.”

“And sixty percent of your cut of any future treasures go to me for the next six months, at least.”

“Alright.”

“And you’re banned from smoking for a week.”

“I — Okay.”

Nami scoffs, brushing locks of hair from her face with an irritated swipe. “You’re really going to just sit there and take it?”

“I —” Sanji starts, but Nami doesn’t give him the chance to defend himself. Not that he has any idea what to say to that, anyway.

“You feel like you deserve it, right? Like you need to do some repenting?” She fixes him a look, and she sighs. “I know what that’s like.”

Sanji nods, hesitantly, and he knows that she of all people can understand. “I’m happy,” he starts, the words unsure, riding on a wobbly exhale. “I’m happy to be home. Thank you for coming.”

“You’re family. Of course we came.”

Sanji balks at Nami’s stalwart tone, and the plainness of it all reminds him of the man who’s drawn them to his bedside. As if it’s that simple; as if he could just return and act like nothing happened. It’s terrifying; being faced with such stubborn, unyielding love, and Sanji doesn’t feel worthy.

He nods again because he knows that his words would fail him should he open his mouth. His shoulders shake, and he tries to suppress it, tries to stay strong in front of Nami. It’s a fruitless façade, and one Nami sees right through of. She purses her lips in thought.

“When we get to Wano, you’re washing Zoro’s socks for a month.” Her voice is a tad firmer now, with a hint of that familial teasing that Sanji has missed oh so much. His dawning horror must have shown on his face, because Nami huffs out a laugh.

“Is that punishment enough, now? Sanji-kun?”

Sanji nods slowly, filled incredulous joy. He mutters something that he hopes sounds like agreement. He lets a couple of tears fall down his cheek because that’s as good as an ‘I forgive you’ from Nami; he can tell. It might take some time, but he’s back now, and for that he’ll gladly even wash the Shitty Swordsman’s sweaty socks.

“Thank you, Nami-san,” he says, and Nami smiles so hard her eyes crinkle upward. It’s the first real smile Sanji’s seen directed at him since this whole fiasco started. New tears burn in Sanji’s eyes, but he swallows them down. There’s no reason to cry.

Sanji excuses himself to the kitchen shortly after. Their Captain will wake up soon, and Sanji needs to have a feast prepared for that. By then, he’ll be brave enough to claim back his place at Luffy’s side. He hasn’t made his Captain Pirate King yet.

It’s two days later that Luffy wakes, with a smile on his face and a ravenous call on his tongue.

Sanji is there to answer it.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this really quick after watching some of the anime. This arc is just, so good. Betaed by Emy!
> 
> Please leave a comment or drop by on [my tumblr!](http://shishiswordsman.tumblr.com/)


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